


for when your days have come to an end (my world grows cold in your absence)

by ferneater



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst and Feels, Daddy issues!Anduin, Epistolary, Legion reunion, Letter fic, M/M, Prose Poem, Wranduin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferneater/pseuds/ferneater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Father, if you did not know this yet: you left me in hell,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and he pulled me out.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> <br/>Anduin responds to his father's final letter from the Legion front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for when your days have come to an end (my world grows cold in your absence)

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I really didn't take into account the way mobile browsers would butcher the form, so if you want to experience this work as intended, download the work or make sure you have it open on a wide screen!

I

Father, what kind of love comes dressed in grief's clothing?  
I'm losing myself  
                    as an afterthought  
losing sight of the sun in the glare of _him_  
father, did you know?  
I thought I knew love. I was familiar with pain  
and, did you know, father,  
that the Light sometimes burns  
you, however devout you are? Yet we keep getting down  
on our knees, we make our palms meet, our fingers  
intertwine, and I am no poet;  
I thought I knew love  
and pain,         my closest companion;  
their transformations are still as foreign to me as the great dark.

I always believed the loss of you would be a dark pit, a  
void, a place of nightmare.  
the loss of you-  
it is not the cold hell I imagined.  
oh father, did you _know_? How he would sink to his knees  
and kiss my knuckles like he could heal them? 

               In your loss I am 

most like you. I have lost myself, the image of my mother  
who never became a wolf. In my mirror, you:  
miles of hair, your messy ponytail; why do I wear it so?  
your eyes and your anger, finally I understand, father, I  
understand what I've so feared. I've become what I've  
feared. 

Did you come to know the slow burn flame that blossoms  
in your chest when he takes  
your hands your body your heart, kisses  
the knuckles that kissed the mirror, plucks  
away the shards with his teeth, father, were you familiar  
with the burn? Why did you never tell me of this?  
Did you know this would happen? Were you  
disappointed, ashamed? Afraid? I never knew,  
_I never knew_  
an ignorant child, the child-king, my mother's sad eyes and  
your red hot anger and the apple of his eye; being  
undressed,  
stepping out of the void one article of clothing at a time.

Father, father, did you know anything of dragonfire? Of  
lady Prestor's fire, helping you forget? Am I repeating your  
mistakes, am I the fool? I know he is.  
               (Mine.)

Father, what is this love born of loss? What is this fire that  
needs my tears for fuel? what is it with us broken kings, the  
broken Wrynn boys?  
I understand you now as you hoped I never would. I forgive  
you, father, for all your human error; run  
my finger along the red thread of fate which so infallibly led  
the kings of my line to these chambers to shake  
hands with their own destruction and take it  
to bed long before us; I take my place on the stage.

 

II

Father, if you did not know this yet: you left me in hell,  
and he pulled me out.  
and I was set on fire, and the brilliance drove out all the  
shadows save for his, but it is the one I will keep. He is my sun.  
And when he worships me on his two knees it burns and it  
is so _good_ not to feel _numb-_  
father, i am his most devoted servant, i love his flame  
his fury, his whims, his body, his pride

Father, somewhere along the road to here I lost:  
the blue-eyed boy who forgave so as to not feel the dagger  
in his back; my hands  
           bore blessings, my head a crown, my shoulders  
did not carry the weight  
of your kingdom of sorrows  
but what am I now?  
a king, a consort, a grieving orphan,

a _masochist_ , father. I feel his knives, I feel them twisting as  
I lie with him, and cross my heart and hope to die, I 

welcome them. the sharp edge of his betrayal and my  
feverish benediction reminds me that despite all (my  
wishes) I am alive to succeed (you)

So he worships me and i worship him - kings and fools, the  
two of us. knees on the ground, fingers interlocked, palms  
touching

                divinity. 

Father, I thought I knew the Light; I now know 

                calling.

 

III

The setting: you, gone;  
me, adrift;  
him, aware

he casts aside his cloak,  
his gloves, his crown,  
his pretenses;  
what remains: his halo, blinding

you, gone;  
me, grieving, wanting;  
him, willing, waiting,

naked  
at my feet as if to say,  
"long live the King  
                (may he reign forever)"

  
fangs flashing  
kisses on palms, wrists, fingertips  
                ("may his strength fail him never");

you, gone;  
me, in love;  
him, mine, make no mistake;

pulling my clothes off, _father_ , like he knows me. and I wish  
you had known, father, I wish I had told you; I wish you had  
known the depth of this flawed mortal emotion, the  
blissful naivety, wrapped up in my shortsighted devotion, in  
his house on his terms in love with him all this time;

he sucks out the venom, the hurt out of me, his teeth on  
my hip, drawing out the poison  
his face in my hands, my subject my equal my love 

my downfall. I thought I'd known what dragons do, father,  
but then, I've been wrong about so many things.

 

IV

Father, you are gone, and father, I need you so much.  
Father, I have given my heart to the dragon, and father, I  
expect there to be little left of it  
when we next meet.

Father, there must be a parting, there must be closure;  
father, you have loved me. Take my peace, the one you died for,  
_the noblest aspiration_ ,  
paid with blood, the fractures in my bird bones,  
my spun-wool-soft idealistic life's work  
an inch outside my reach for the rest of my days;  
Father, I'll eat your heart with my new lover; go now,  
father, goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I just have a lot of feelings. And so many headcanons. 
> 
> This started out as a little stream of consciousness thing I just had to get out of my system and somehow ended up undergoing hours of edits and pruning later. Too much work, really, for such a short silly thing. I realize this is really not everyone's cup of tea either, and I'm establishing myself as a strange wranduin fic writer now (or just really self-indulgent?), I rarely see 1) letter fic format 2) PROSE POEM FORMAT but if some of y'all like this too then ︎︎︎ love ya lots
> 
> Obviously I snuck in like 1000000 headcanons and should you ever want to discuss/scream about/ramble about them, hmu on tumblr: superfiends/kelpfarm B)


End file.
